As we were now running along the shore, looking for our landing-place, and just going to take in the sail, the American captain, who sat close to the man at the helm, seemed attentively watching something on the larboard bow of the boat. In an instant he exclaimed, "Port your helm, my good fellow, port hard." These words he accompanied with a push of the helm so violent as almost to throw overboard the man who sat on the larboard quarter. At the same moment, a heavy sea lifted the boat, and sent her many yards beyond and to the right of a pointed rock just flush or even with the water, which had escaped our notice, and which none suspected but the American captain (for these rocks do not show breakers every minute--if they did they would be easily avoided). On this we should most certainly have been dashed to pieces, had not the danger been seen, and avoided by the sudden and skilful motion of the helm; one moment more, and one foot nearer, and we were gone. "Merciful God!" said I, "to what fate am I reserved at last? How can I be sufficiently thankful for so much goodness!" I thanked the American for his attention--told my men how much we were indebted to him, and how amply he had repaid our kindness in taking him off the wreck. "Ah, lieutenant!" said the poor man, "it is a small turn I've done you for the kindness you have shown to me." The water was very deep, the rocks being steep; so we lowered our sail, and getting our oars out, pulled in to look for a landing. At the further end of the cove, we discovered the wreck of a vessel lying on the beach. She was broken in two, and appeared to be copper-bottomed. This increased the eagerness of the men to land; we rowed close to the shore, but found that the boat would be dashed to pieces if we attempted it. The midshipman proposed that one of us should swim on shore, and, by ascending a bill, discover a place to lay the boat in. This I agreed to; and the quarter-master immediately threw off his clothes. I made a head-line fast to him under his arms, that we might pull him in if we found him exhausted. He went over the surf with great ease, until he came to the breakers on the beach, through which he could not force his way; for the moment he touched the ground with his foot, the recoil of the sea, and what is called by sailors the undertow, carried him back again, and left him in the rear of the last wave.